


Running On Empty

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Babybones (Undertale), Brotherly Angst, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Exhaustion, Fear of Death, Hurt/Comfort, Not feeling great today, Numbness, Platonic Cuddling, Poverty, Pre-Canon, Starvation, Suicidal Ideation, vent fic, very little comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Papyrus is crying again. Sans is too tired to keep saying that everything will be okay.
Relationships: Papyrus & Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	Running On Empty

Papyrus is crying yet again. At this point Sans isn’t sure what he’s so upset about; in fact, Papyrus himself might not even know. Pick anything out of the mile-long list and suggest it to him, but then Sans risks reminding him of all the other reasons he has to cry. That wouldn’t be the kind, comforting thing to do, would it?

Sans is tired. He’s sick and tired of consoling Papyrus—wiping his brother’s wet, burning cheeks, shushing him and _lying_ to him night after night. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out together. We’ll find a way.” By now he should know better than to make such promises. He can never know for sure that everything is going to work out. Judging by the caverns under their eye sockets and the yellowed tinge creeping into their fragile bones, they might just starve to death by next week.

Maybe that’s why Papyrus weeps. Sans can’t muster the energy anymore, so someone more capable has to step up. Maybe it makes him feel needed.

Or maybe he sobs aloud to convince himself that he's still alive to be heard, because he doesn’t know how much longer that will last.

If that’s what he considers his purpose, if that’s what he chooses to cling to, Sans won’t rob him of it. His mind is too cluttered, his soul too heavy with grief. All he’ll do this time is draw little Papyrus close to his chest. He won’t protest as Papyrus’ tears wet his collarbone and soak through the neck of his tattered shirt. He’ll grit his teeth and bear it, praying that Papyrus cries himself to sleep soon. Sans is well aware that he won’t find rest until his brother does.

When the mewls and whimpers slowly, slowly die down, Sans will pray that they wake up in the morning to a better world.

And if a better world isn’t in the cards for them, he’ll pray that they never wake up.


End file.
